


Wash It Away

by Dickensgal31



Series: Clean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9.18 Coda based on preview, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dickensgal31/pseuds/Dickensgal31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shower as a safe place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash It Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyrie101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyrie101/gifts).



> Copyright Disclaimer: See Endnote.  
> Author’s Note: This is my very first Destiel Fic! After seeing the awesome shower shots this story started to take shape in my head. I tried to ignore it… I really did! I write for another fandom and I am so behind! But this fic would not leave me alone, and so here it is! I don’t know who clipped the original scene, but I thank them and Kyrie101 who reblogged it to me. I hope you like what I’ve done! Enjoy, Lisa... (Also [On Tumblr](http://dickensgal.tumblr.com/) and [On LJ](http://dickensgal31.livejournal.com/))

__

_Create in me a clean heart (2 Samuel 12:10, KJV)_   
  
  
  


Dean’s eyes stare at the ceiling willing his mind to turn off, willing his gut to stop churning. The alcohol he guzzled last night had less to do with his roiling stomach than the raging thoughts darting through his brain. They pierce him to his very core, to his soul.

With a deep sigh he pushes himself up.

_“If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing.”_

_Sam’s face said it all, “No, Dean, I wouldn’t. Same circumstances I wouldn't.”_

_I never thought Sam and I would be so far apart. How did he get so cold, so,_ Dean pinches the sting from his eyes, _so, removed? It’s not my Sammy. My Sammy isn’t that cold._ Dean tried to shake it off. _How did I let it happen?_

_Cain’s hardened eyes bored into me, “The mark can be transferred to someone who's worthy.”_

“He meant a killer just like me. And that's just what I am. A killer.” 

_“So… I save Sam, I leave here a free man. Do we have a deal?” And I made the fuckin’ deal. I keep making deals with the bastard. Maybe I’m the bastard._

_“Listen, buddy. Um... You can't stay.” Cas was so hurt, so confused. How the fuck could I do that to him?_

_“Ya gotta trust me Kev.” Trust me, what a crock! Crowley got it right, people around me don’t have much chance at living! I see his burnt eyes every day. Everywhere. Kid was right, he got hurt all right._

Dean swings his legs off the bed. Closing his eyes he sees Kevin’s burnt vacant eyes. He wills it away. Again.

Ignoring the pain that darts behind his eyes he stumbles into the bathroom. It doesn’t take much to strip out of his tee-shirt and boxers. The steam rises around him as the water runs hot. The tile still feels cool under his feet as he steps into the punishing stream. 

His head won’t shut off. His skin crawls with the dirt of a decade of hunting and failing. A decade of fighting and losing. He braces his arms on the wall and lets the water sluice over his head, his shoulders, his arms.

The mark Cain gifted him draws his gaze. Just looking at it, he can feel the burn. He can feel it branding him all over again.

He turns the water to its hottest. It rains down on him. Each tiny stream pummels his back valiantly attempting to scrub away sins that are more than skin deep. 

“Christ!” The expletive is pulled from him as a curse, as a desperate prayer. Squeezing his eyes closed he finally lets his eyes leak his despair. His tears mingle with the water that pounds him, the sins that crawl over him.

He scrubs his hands over his head looking for any relief, but at the same time his own grip is fiercely punishing. The never answered questions chase relentlessly into the deepest recesses of his conscience.

Opening his eyes he watches the clear water fall in rivulets down the tile, swirls down the drain. The clearness of the water takes him by surprise.

_It looks so pure, so clean. It runs clear. No blood or dirt, gore or grime._ Dean’s throat works to keep back the bile that rises. _But it’s not clean. It can’t be. I can’t be. Never again._

Pain lances through his chest again. He wonders at his ability to still feel anything.

“Please, make me numb! Why am I not numb?” He feels another sob catch in his throat. It finally slips past his throat leaving it raw and burning. Scorching tears mingle with the water that still pelts him.

He leans his head against the tile wall with a dull thud.

“Why do YOU do this?” He snorted, “Look who I’m talking to,” he mutters into the wall. “You’re not here! You’re never here!” His fingers dig into the unyielding tile as he chokes on another sob, “Please…”

_I’ll never be clean. Never be good._

He let out and bitter sigh, “What a waste.”

The privacy of the shower and the steam allowed him the luxury of tears. Bitter, harsh tears, throat searing tears.

And for the first time he gave in.

He caught his breath in a near choke as a waft of cooler air prickled his skin.

He feels strong arms come around his chest. His breath hitches as arms he knows embrace him.

“You are a good man, Dean Winchester, I need you to know that.”

The huskiness of the familiar voice sends a painful shiver through Dean.

“I’m dirty, Cas.” Dean’s voice is barely heard. “I’m a killer. I’ll never be clean. And I just keep failing.”

Cas presses Dean into his body. He presses his right hand hard against Dean’s heart, “You have the best heart.” He turns Dean to face him, “You have the brightest soul of any human. You have a soul brighter than some of my brethren.” Cas’ blue eyes search the pain-filled ones of his friend, his partner, his lover. He cups Dean’s face and holds it firm, “You torture yourself without need. They do not make men such as you all that often, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head as he tries fruitlessly to pull away in the confined space. “Cas.” 

The angel flinches at the pain he hears in Dean’s voice.

“Cas,” Dean pulls Cas’ hands from his face and holds out his arm, “Look at this! You know what this is! I’m branded with the worst mark anyone can have! How does this,” his voice chokes on a sob, “make me a good man! I make deals with the King of Hell! And God! Fuck God and his plans for me!”

Cas pulls Dean’s head to his shoulder, “I’ll tell you,” he whispers in Dean’s ear, “and someday, you’ll believe me. My Father has big plans for you. I know this. I lost faith, but you gave it back to me.” He shut the water and reaches for the towel on the hook outside the shower.

Dean’s arms cord with tension. His body is strung taut, every muscle tight.

“You, Dean Winchester, hunter of monsters, defender of man and all that is right,” Cas continues his patter as he wraps Dean in the clean towel, “you do have heart that is clean. You have not failed.” 

He takes Dean’s face in his hands, again, “You,” blue eyes connect with green, “have made sacrifices no one should be asked to make. You’ve made your sacrifice with a glad heart.” 

A silent tear continues to streak and burn down Dean’s cheek. 

Cas tenderly manhandles Dean back into the bedroom, “Sam is wrong! It is not your fear of being alone that keeps you watching out for him! Sacrificing for him!” Cas’ voice takes on a nearly violent tone, “It is your love for him that drives you! It is a pure love,” he looks softly at Dean, “a clean love.”

Dean allows Cas to push him down on the bed. He shivers as Cas sits beside him and swipes away the shaming evidence of his tears. He finally slumps against the angel, his angel, his friend and lover.

“I can’t do this anymore, Cas.” Dean deflates as he scrubs a hand through his soaked hair, “I know what I am. I’m a deal maker with the King of Hell, I’ve betrayed Sam and you.” He looked down at his hands, “I got Kevin killed,” Dean shakes his head and takes in a shuddering breath, “my sins,” he chokes and shakes his head again with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore, Cas, I can’t.”

Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s temple, “You can. You will. And I will be here to help you.” He gently pushes Dean down onto the bed, “Rest, now.” 

Cas stands back as he watches a little of the tension drain from Dean as he succumbs to sleep. Stripping off the wet tee-shirt clinging to him and shucking off his pajama pants he quickly towels off. He smiles as he observes Dean sigh deeper into sleep. Climbing under the sheet he wraps himself around Dean and pulls him close.

“Rest,” Cas presses a chaste kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, “we will fight again tomorrow.”

  
  
_Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. (Psalm 51:2, KJV)_   


 

End, Part One

  
  
  
**Your comments will be cherished. Thanks! Lisa**  


**Author's Note:**

> Copyright Disclaimer: That all characters are the property of Warner Bros. Television, CW Network LLC, Wonderland Sound and Vision, and Eric Kripke is fully acknowledged. No copyright infringement intended. Character names are merely borrowed for fun. I do not own any characters, products or services depicted in this story which you may recognize. The canon characters of the series, Supernatural, are out of their series character and I cite [Section 107 of the US Copyright Clause on 'Fair Use'](http://www.copyright.gov/fls/fl102.html). This is, in majority, a transformative work, solely enjoyed by a specific audience and no profit is realized. Original characters and/or characterizations, story concepts and plot are the property of the author publishing as Dickensgal31.


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